The B-word

B is for Bitches, but today it's for Bomb.....

It's only my second day back to work after a pretty sweet vacation in the Caribbean. The first day back was a jam packed ten hours. Today was proving itself to be an even bigger beast.

I started working as a rural carrier about 7 years ago.
I promised myself I'd go and get my college degree if I didn't get hired at the USPS.
It was one of the only career paths that made sense for someone like me. With 4 young children, daycare can be hard to find. It's an even bigger task if you're only making minimum wage. Carrying mail would allow me to work outside of the home and still make a decent wage even after the

babysitting fees were deducted. Starting pay was $18/hour plus the vehicle allowance for your gas. I accepted the position the second they offered it to me. I've never regretted my choice and love many aspects of my job. With my schedule and support of my Postmasters I've also managed to go to college full time.
I now have a surplus of postal stories.
These are impossible to make up.

A few years back the Federal government was pushing the "See something, Say something!" initiative. Telling the public that with their help, eyes and ears, they could aide us in catching crimes or illegal acts in progress.
If there's one thing you learn quicker than anything else in the post office it's that you NEVER EVER say the B-word.
 B stands for bomb. And we don't mess with that.
Even the mention of it is like walking into the bank with a black ski mask on. You don't even have to make a threat. The word itself scares people shitless. We are all routinely trained and reminded of the things that warrant cause for concern or when red flags should be raised.
The public seems to be even more sensitive about mail tampering.
In the winter months I wear blue latex gloves because they actually keep my fingertips from freezing off. Much better than their fleece competition. It always catches me off guard when people ask if it's because,"I know something they don't" or "Anthrax is back".
They put things together that I can't even fathom.

I was pulling into my second office of the day. Many mail routes and offices had to merge together when the USPS started losing volume due to the increase of things like email and UPS. So, many routes consolidated to also include any small neighboring town's mail.
I have to go into my second office, case the mail and packages, lock up and start delivering again. It is fairly simple and rhythmic once you get a routine down.
 I'm already behind time because it's Monday. Upon trying to pull in I have to maneuver around a couple pick-up trucks. I know I shouldn't be irritated by something so minor, but it hasn't been my day.
(Whatever)
I park and do my usual dismount anyways. One of the older gentlemen stops me before I can get to my office keys....

"Ma'am, I've been here about a half hour now and I've already called 9-1-1. I noticed the package shortly after the window clerk left and didn't want anyone to get hurt! They're sending the Bomb Squad. It's right there by your door!"

I am initially disoriented. I'm trying to internally process the situation, "Shit. He said the B-word. There is a "suspicious package" ten feet away. There are people all over the parking lot. The office closed an hour ago so there's no other employee here. Keep it cool. Keep it cool. You've been trained to deal with this......Shit!"

I inhale deep and assess the situation for myself.

I then notice that the "bomb" is in fact the door stopper that the office workers use to get the mail carts in and out of the building. It is typically left right inside of the heavy door. Our clerk is somewhat new and unfortunately his habits are different than those of the girl that worked the office before him. One of these habits is leaving the door stopper outside. (Shit)
A simple mistake. I would show you what it looked like, but of course this all had to happen on the one day I'm not carrying my cell phone. (It took a dip in the Caribbean Sea)
It is the size and weight of a cement block. A bit uneven though because it's filled with metal slat dividers and then wrapped like crazy with red and white postal tape that says "Priority mail" all over it. There is no address on it and is a beaming example of exactly what a danger package looks like as described by the US Government.
Today is not my day.
Certain of the fact that someone just left the door stopper outside, I (semi-embarrassed) grab the suspected bomb and rush into the office. Of course it is lunch hour at my main office and I didn't have my phone to text my traditional Post Masters. I called the nearest clerk with management experience and sought out her advice and made the situation known. I think she thought I was joking at first. She took care of the other phone calls for me. I'm trying to call my family (that has scanners) to let them know I'm not in any trouble since I can't answer anyone's text messages. Before I can make my call, the huge siren down the road starts to blast the sound of it's people. Emergency Services are in route.
 It doesn't matter if there's an emergency or not...
We are raised on the notion that siren=bad. I was starting to feel bad.
To save myself the pain of customer questions I remained behind my locked office door until the State Troopers came knocking. They needed to see the "device" and all employees...there was only me. They seemed somewhat skeptical of my door stopper story. Somehow the 9-1-1 dispatched the emergency as if it was called in by a postal employee and a confirmed bomb.
I didn't even have a phone, and the clerk had been gone for at least an hour. Something they were able to pull up and see that it was in fact called in by a civilian. They watched as I took the corner off of the thing. Just as I thought....a bunch of wrapped up case dividers. We fill out the necessary paperwork and exchange the necessary numbers. I call management...who's instructed me to make sure that thing never sees the light of day again. I'm pretty sure everyone ended up with an email about what constitutes a proper door wedge.

There's another light tap at the door. The people who called it in were waiting for the explanation they deserved. While I instantly knew what the object was, they did not. And they were right to call it in. It's exactly what they've been asked to do.
It looked so believable that two men stayed over a half an hour in 90 degree heat just to keep any customers that showed up away from it.
I explained it all to them in the most delicate way possible. It was a simple error on our part, but we would always rather have people looking out for each other than turning a blind eye.
"Keep up the attentiveness and thank you for all of your time!!"
There wasn't much else I could say to make it all seem worth their efforts. The crowd starts to disperse once they share the news that the door stopper isn't going to be exploding anytime soon.
I'm finally back inside. Alone. Safe. And very late.
If chaos is a necessary step in the organization of one's universe, then I am well on my way.